Day 7

"I Ain't Got It, Man...": Poverty, Justice, and Bootstraps Theory

For those of you who've been privileged enough to visit my residence, you would know that I live in a -- what we'll call "colorful" -- neighborhood. Just seconds walking distance from my beloved alma mater, my block is a regular motley crew, with ornaments of gunshots that pepper the night air's melody and a parade of female & transgender prostitutes who run their open-air ass market day and night.

All this withstanding, I'm actually quite the fan of my neighborhood -- save the occasional attempted break-in (propagated by punk kinds who don't live in my 'hood, to be fair...), I enjoy the dichotomous convalescence of class/profession/life experience that, ironically, unites us. I'm even friendly with a few of the regular "working gals" -- we trade stories and generally keep a look-out after one another and the neighborhood -- after all, it may not be much, but its OURS. And maybe it's a false sense of security, but I actually feel safe in my neighborhood -- smack dab in the middle of the ghetto.

The one condition of the impoverished experience that brings me the most annoyance (and, conversely, cause for self-reflection) is another element of my neighborhood and germane character of the cast: the vagrant. Don't get me wrong: Atlanta is full of 'em, and five years in the Big Peach has desensitized me to most forms of beggary -- men, women, disabled, even children (sadly). But there's another relationship to vagrancy that manifests when it congregates on your corners, walks your sidewalks, lives on your block, and rears itself every time you come home -- hell, it rings your doorbell and makes a pitch! I'm not arguing for or against the morality or social context of these person's economic condition/enterprise -- moreso, I seek to make a point:

"If we both live in the 'hood, why do you think I got it?!"

Until a week ago, I was a normal struggling college student -- now, I'm a struggling college graduate trying to budget my present expenses for my future expenses by my past expenses. I am in only a slightly better (and even that pronouncement is presumptuous, seeing as some of them are, technically, self-employed) fiscal situation than the one they occupy -- perhaps what they don't have in capital I make up for in student debt. Even still, I probably wouldn't abhor this phenomenon so...abhorrently, if it wasn't such a frequent occurrence. No joke, there are a few "regulars" who live near me that ask me for change every time they see me -- others still who come and knock on my door up to four times a week to request money for some ridiculous task (seriously, you need $2 to ride MARTA...at 1am? MARTA ain't thinking about you). Even still, that's not my biggest challenge, either.

As a conscious progressive and public servant who understands the societal oppressions that create such disenfranchised circumstances, I sit on a very interesting and conflicting proverbial fence. On the one hand, I sympathize with these "children of a lesser God", knowing that it is the same force that socially stymies them that has, more or less, allowed me to flourish. Call it liberal guilt, call it true racial empathy, but I feel like I'm at least partially party to their depressed situation. However, I simultaneously despise the contentment and complacency within which I feel these people operate -- I hate to admit it, but part of me thinks that perhaps their circumstances could be different if they just...you know...TRIED to change them. Are their only options for substantive employment and fulfillment relegated to the underpinnings of the social strata?

In the end, I feel like it is most probably a combination (perhaps not an equitable one, but a combination nonetheless) that creates the unique situation of our resident beggars and contributes to the unique character of my neighborhood. I'm still not sure how I feel about it, one way or the other. And maybe there's another piece to this that I'm missing completely -- one that explains way more about why things are the way they are than race theorists and social commentators can muster. Honestly, I'm more interested in discerning my responsibility to these persons, who for better or worse are still my geographic and human neighbor, and to the plight itself. How much am I warranted to give to fight this particular oppression? To the last corner of my pockets? And if I don't but give in other ways, what is the true integrity of my advocacy and progressive ideology?

As a new college graduate, how has my accountability to the community changed?

I don't have the answers. But until I find them, I guess I'll just keep some quarters handy...if I got 'em to spare.